Even Better

Only consumed 20 points today. See, Weight Watcher meetings do work.

Did my Pilates routine.

Went to see Magdelena Sisters - heavy movie but good. Just don't go see it on a bad day.

Thanks Big Brother.

All Better

I went to bed early as I said I would. No TV, no reading.

Slept like a log. Woke up before alarm.

Went to Weight Watchers meeting. Weighed in and stayed for the meeting. Yes, I did gain another 5 pounds this month. So now I am working the program again. It's a new program. Flex Points. I like that. A lot.

Went to store and purchased lots of fruit. I'm going to be good.

I am signing off now because I need to do someone's payroll. See, I'm going to do my work too.

Thanks mom.

I Need a Mom...

or at least someone to tell me to behave.

You see, I have been bad. My husband has been working late nights this week. It's kind of like I'm on vacation when he's gone in the evening. I stay up late. I play around on the computer, do my exercises, play with the cats, read, watch a little TV and all of a sudden it's 2am. The radio alarm blasts out the news at exactly half past six in the morning. I drag myself out of bed saying, "I won't do that again." And then I do it all over.

So here I am. He's at work. I am dead tired. Tomorrow is Saturday but I can't sleep in. I have to get up and weigh in by 7:30am.

Weighing in. That's another reason I need a Mom. I need someone to say, "stop eating all that junk. weigh in every week, not just the very last Saturday of the month." I have no control lately. I eat junk food. Husband is gone for the evening, I help myself to Oreo's, M&Ms, Ice Cream. Usually I blame my husband for bringing the stuff home. But guess what... I stocked up my secret drawer.

Work. Another reason for Mom. Remind me that work comes before play. And playing shouldn't be done at work. But there I am. I have to get in just one more game of solitaire before I get to the work. It's even worse when I try to work at home on all those side jobs. I check my email. Feed the cats. Write in my diary. Write in my blog. Read blogs. And then it's too late to work. I'm too tired.

Exercise. I started Pilates training Monday. I did the routine at home in front of the TV on Tuesday. Wednesday I was too tired. Thursday I did half of it. Today...nada. Someone has to tell me to do it.

Okay, enough confessions. I've told you all my trangressions for this week. Now I have no excuse. I must turn this all around. Do the next right thing. Hey, it's only 9:15 here. I'm going to bed.

Besides, Big Brother is watching. I'm sure he'll straighten me out. Good Night.

Obfuscation - the Answer

If you haven't read the first entry from yesterday, read it before you look at the answer.



As much as I would want # 2 to be a lie, the truth is # 3 is the lie.

Bored yet?

Just a couple more things.

Who threw the bubble gum on the sidewalk outside my apartment this morning? Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

I want this bumper sticker: Fat people are harder to kidnap.

Now I have to go for sure. Snorting Hog is awakening. (you did read Indian Names below didn't you?) Problem with blog. You must read it backwards!

I checked out my hours online this month. 3770 minutes. I am not addicted to the internet. Someone else must be using my account. Really.

I'm done. Promise. No more drivel. I'm shutting down the computer.

The Sewing Machine Revived

Opened the sewing machine that has stood idle for 20 some years. Amazed to find the original Kenmore instruction book. Carefully placed drops of oil into each illustrated part. Wiped up spilled oil with husbands old underwear (clean). Couldn't find a spool of thread in my place so resorted to using an old bobbin to thread the machine. Found some old quilting pieces buried in my trunk. Put my knee to the pedal. Nothing. Cranked the wheel around a couple of times. Motor moans. Cranked the wheel around a couple more times. The needle goes up and down two or three times. Stops. Repeat cranking and groaning several more times. All of a sudden the motor takes off with a screetch, barely missed stitching up both thumbs.

Now there is no excuse. I get out the vintage pattern. It is all printed on blueprint paper. Each size a different line. I don't want to cut out a size 10 and find out I'm a size 12. Seems I'll have to trace the pattern onto tissued paper.

Off to the fabric store. Scissors, thread, seven yards of purple fabric, pins, needles, pin cushion, seam ripper, magnifying glass, snaps and hooks and a roll of pellam to make a pattern (cause that's what the clerk said to use). Home again. I look at the sewing machine, place the bag of fabric and notions on chair. I look at the pattern again. This seems way to complicated. So I decide that today I'm only going to make the pattern, maybe cut out the dress. After I write some blog stuff... Have you noticed how many entries I have made today?

Just checked - the cat is sleeping on the pattern. It wouldn't be good to disturb him.

Shopping

Yesterday, before going to the theatre, I stood in front of my closet wondering what I could pull out that would actually fit. Once again it seems that extra 10 pounds crept back on. Too late to take it off. Only solution was to go shopping. The solution, one pair of black dress pants, that stretch two ways and two sweaters because I couldn't decide which would be best. Oh, and I threw in a long black skirt in case I wanted to be a bit dressier.

Stopped off at Starbucks. Had coffee and caramel bar (Okay niece K - don't tell me the calorie/fat count this time).

Got home. Reached for the skirt. It was too tight. Now how can one afternoon coffee and one tiny caramel cookie do that? I wore the stretch pants vowing to never eat fat again.

Breakfast this morning with the Uncles: Waffles, butter, syrup, bacon, bowl of fruit, coffee. It's all the uncles fault..

Chicago

It was good to see the live Chicago at the Golden Gate Theatre. I had heard there were bad reviews. And with the first couple of scenes, I was considering that perhaps the reviews were right. However, we sat it out, in row T, kind of on the side, sweltering and found the rest of show reasonably rewarding. Would I go again? Probably not. But then again... Naw, it wasn't work the $85 per ticket.

Getting to the theatre. Now that's another story. Took Bart. Walked several blocks to the theatre, past the homeless, clinging my bag closer to my side. Relieved to get in the door. Going back, past the homeless now drunk or passed out, I walked briskly trying not to breathe in the stench of it all. Unfortunate that good theatres must be located in such rotten neighborhoods.

Indian Names

Last night at dinner my husband announced he was going to call me White Swan.

"Why?" I asked.

"Cause you should have an indian name."

"because?"

He looked at me, "just because."

So I looked back at him and said, "Okay Snorting Hog."

Do you know that today he just couldn't wait to tell everyone he knows what I will now call him? Oh no, what have we started?

Obuscation

I just gotta do this. I know it was due on Friday but I just happened to find out about it. So here goes: You figure out which are true or false - I don't have comments, so you'll have to email me.

#1. When I was seven years old I was visiting a friend who just happened to be living in an old farmhouse where I had lived for several years. We walked down a long dirt road to town, a small town in Michigan with maybe half a dozen stores. On the way back to her house, we stopped at a corner gas station. When the owner wasn't looking, we each snatched a candy bar. While we were enjoying the chocolate on our long walk home, a guy in an old station wagon pulled over and asked where we were going and if we need a ride. I didn't know who the guy was and my first reaction was that he had seen us steal the candy bars and we were doomed. I stuttered a bit but told him that we would rather walk. My friend looked astonished that I wouldn't take the ride. When we got back to her house, I found out the guy in the car was her father.

#2 I have always had a problem figuring out locks, especially on bathroom doors. One night I was riproaring drunk and had to go to the bathroom in the worst way. My husband pulled over in a city park and pointed to a portapotty. Being under the influence I could have cared less where I was so I got in there, did my duty, and reached for the lock. I couldn't get the trigger to work. Meanwhile my kids who were in their early teens thought it would be really funny to tip the portapotty. I woke up in the morning, sniffing my clothes, not quite sure if I could remember the adventure. They were quick to fill in the details.

#3 In the mid seventies streaking the neighborhood was a popular fad. Our friends had no problem participating in this activity so it was no surprise when we all went out and streaked the snowed in streets of Tahoe on a weekend retreat. The only trouble is, I was at the tale end of the line and they all thought it would be funny to run back, lock the door and leave me stranded out in the snow. Scared and shivering, I screamed and pounded on the door. Roaring laughter came from the other side of the door. Moments later the police cruiser arrived flashing lights on my naked body.